Friction
by Nonsensicality
Summary: She calls to him, like a siren of the sea; he cannot resist her call. She was overwhelming, exhilarating. He lost grip on the physical world, his reality being replaced by the vast entirety that was her – endless and damning. Warning: Romance, Suggestion, Loving


Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Once Upon A Time.

Summary: She calls to him, like a siren of the sea; he cannot resist her call. She was overwhelming, exhilarating. He lost grip on the physical world, his reality being replaced by the vast entirety that was her – endless and damning.

Inspiration: A little too much chocolate, some mood music, a fantastic new writer for the pairing and BAM! To be honest, I got a little over dramatic and in depth with the complexity of this pairing.

Warning: Romance, Suggestion, Loving

Pairing: Captain Swan

* * *

><p><strong>Friction<strong>

**By ****N**o**n**s**e**n**si**c**a**l**i**t**y**

* * *

><p><em>You come in waves<em>

_We crash and we roll_

_You surround me_

_Pull me, drown me_

_Swallow me whole_

_You're turning me on_

_Like a slow fire burn_

- Jameson Bass

* * *

><p>His eyes were on her, as they always were, memorizing the dips and swells of her mesmerizing figure. She marched ahead of him, as she always did, hips swaying and golden hair blazing. Together they moved, she the lead and he the shadow. He'd not the curiosity of when or why, neither the inclination to fill the silence with spoken words.<p>

These quiet moments were a rarity.

He trailed behind her at a distance she'd accept, but one at which he could still graze against her with feigned innocence. Such brushes had no effect on her, but he suffered at the lightest contact. Her touch sent red-hot embers skittering across his skin, pooling to simmer in his stomach. He inhaled shakily, though nothing could dispel the heat.

Every inch of her was inviting to him, not a feature of her existence was unappealing. She called to him like a siren, stirring within him desires long since forgotten – but threatened to drown him if he dared act upon those desires.

Never had he been so deeply intoxicated, not by woman nor beverage; his nerves were alight and yet his senses dulled. A thrilling contrast he only experienced in her presence, whether he willed it or not. He felt infinite and constricted all at once – the simultaneous existence of which brought about a friction he was desperate to share with her. Though at times he suspected she already felt it, when the moment was right and they shared gazes long enough for him to see an ocean reflected in her.

She was the sea. Powerful and hauntingly beautiful, with unforetold dangerous lurking just below the surface. Treasures too, for those daring enough to venture deeper. A sea faring soul such as himself took pleasure in the challenge of navigating her endless depths. Occasionally, it'd seem she took pleasure in it also; her tides would rise and the waters churn. Wild and raging, seeking purchase against something solid. But then that ocean would dry up, leaving behind something barren and hard.

As it had in the diner they currently made their way from.

There had been a gathering of unimportant people he'd paid no mind to, they'd spoke and she listened, though he'd not hear a word. Instead he'd been wading in her oceanic irises – quite contentedly – when it happened. She looked to him for confirmation of something, finding his gaze waiting. Nothing out of the ordinary, she'd find what she was looking for and proceed; he never could hide things from her. Yet this time there was a hitch in her breathing and a snap in her spine, much like his reaction to the rare sighting of her smile. However, where he'd melt and smile back, she solidified and the distance between them resurged. She didn't look again.

It was minute, though he'd definitely seen something. He gone on about his himself, swimming mindlessly until she was through. There'd been no visible reason to, yet she fled the diner, and so he followed. She'd not meet his eyes when he helped her out, fending off the unimportants and their complaining. Her avoidance of him was tantalizing, cruel, and yet he reveled in it; the fact that she felt that friction, too. It was his only solace in the painful endeavor of pursuing Emma Swan. Only it frightened _her_.

As did his advances. She flowed like water, free and undefined; she needed only space to flourish. Yet when he neared, she froze over, meeting his attempts as violently as a wave did the cliff side. The relentless force of which eroded his hesitance and made him bold, like a stone smoothed over time.

Too bold. He'd stolen a kiss more than once – when the friction was unbearable and threatened to burn him up. Nothing quite so passionate as the ones he dreamt of sharing with her, to be sure, but they were no less sincere. While they were never well received, as they increased in frequency so did the time it took before she shoved him away. It wasn't much, but it gave him hope enough to endure her physical retaliations.

It was that hope that drove him to impulsive-insanity. While that hope lived, so did his madness. He was nonsensical with her, rash – his actions were driven by instinct. The way he breathed her in to help steady his racing heartbeat. The way he watched her mouth to see her caress his name. The way he toyed with her limits to see her passions flare.

He wanted to always be near her – to feel her. To feel her against him, ravaging him in an attempt to quell the friction within herself. To feel the pull of her at his hair, hear his call fall pleadingly from her supple lips. He wanted to see her unabashed and undeniable.

He wanted her everything – every facet of her powerful being, as he'd wanted for nothing in nearly three centuries. Her smile was dizzying, spinning him up and leaving him unstable; her voice suffocating, laced with a poison that burned up his insides; her body was sinful, taunting and calling to him like none before. She infected the living world, it was natural reaction – a sexual attraction. The very thought of her consumed him, fogged up his mind and weighed in his chest.

Though she was oblivious to his pains, to the fact that she had him by the heartstrings. All he could see was her; all he could do was follow her. Wordlessly, as he always did, through the town without registry of their whereabouts. She stole his attentions and affections without mercy. He was constantly searching – waiting – for a release she'd not provide. He convinced himself that if he waited long enough, she'd supply it. She had oh so many charms to distract him until then…

Such as the one she was currently undressing.

"Well that was awful," she huffed, tugging off her coat to toss it haphazardly across the apartment. It was only then he noticed their surroundings, but even then just barely, and only enough to register the fact they were alone.

The apartment was empty, the kitchen undeserving of the pent up aggression she inflicted upon it. How he loved to see her so riled. As she moved, the evening sun embraced her, setting her figure ablaze. "It's not like this is my fault," she fumed, but the Captain was too enamored to listen. He watched her tip her head back to drink from a glass of water, her hair spilling down her back.

As she returned the glass to its spot on the countertop, he tried for but a glimpse of her oceans again, though they flittered away. "I mean, what are we supposed to do, we—"

Finally, he caught sight and their gazes met; he anchored himself in the moment, in her, and she stilled. Again her breathing faltered and her back stiffened, his pulse sent racing. On their frozen plane, gravity gave way and his equilibrium was thrown into chaos her magnetism all that held him to in place. Her sea green eyes bore into his, submerging him in warm waters.

It was all he could do not reach out and let himself surrender to her.

"…What is it?" Her words cut clear through the fog, reaching him below the water. He was in rapture though, the friction of infinity and conformity building in his chest. It had him speechless. "If you've something on your mind, say it."

There was a lightness in her voice, a smile on her lips; she didn't know the effect she had on him. The frustration he was feeling, the relief he was seeking…

She approached him concernedly, unaware of the torrents she inflicted upon him with each step. The waves crashed down on him, his heart pounding with the effort it took to maintain his composure, his breathing labored. She flowed with lethal feminism – her green eyes scorching with curiosity, "Seriously, you're starting to freak me out."

They were too close: he could feel the heat of her breath, see the perfect imperfections of her skin. His efforts were starting to show. He could sense the quiver in his lips as they fought to form his usual grin. Struggling to keep his head above the surface, he rasped, "Apologies, love."

She gave him a quick once-over, one that caused the simmering in his stomach to catch fire. "What's with you, today?"

He breathed out unsteadily, attempting to mask it as a chuckle, "Nothing particularly interesting."

But those oceans engulfed him, dragging him down. He knew this feeling; her eyes searched every crevice of his mind, shedding light in his darkest corners. And then they were satisfied, he was released. He knew what she'd found – she was drawn to it. Though the depths he so thoroughly enjoyed were uncharted, to her, his were clear as crystal shores. He could not hide his truths from her, no matter how he tried; he was but a mere man.

She tilted her head with a skeptical smile, brows arching. "Wanna try that again?"

His gaze fell to her mouth, drawn by their slight upturn. But then those lips fell and he looked back to her worriedly – until he saw the realization in her eyes. In that instant when his guard had fallen in admiration, his truths were laid bare in his cerulean blues. It'd only taken him a split second to realize his mistake, but that was all she needed.

She'd seen.

"Really Swan," he began, stepping away with a lighthearted chuckle—

She caught him by the coat (a tactic of hers he was slowly coming to enjoy) and pulled him into her. They collided roughly, whatever form of composure he'd managed to maintain falling away in the force.

"Don't," she simply commanded.

He was reeling, but she was waiting for him – the real him. If she brought their faces close enough, she knew she could coax him out from beneath the suggestive jests and cocky grins. She hovered there, watching intently as the friction and need played across his features. He struggled to wrap his words around unspoken pleas, but they were bitten back before they formed. Meaningless sounds fell from his lips, airy and throaty, until he finally managed a husky, "…Swan."

Her hands fisted themselves on either side of his leather collar, bringing him closer to her still; she could taste the salt in his breath. Tantalizing. She was dangerous and disorientating and delicious all at once. He was drowning in it, losing all sense of reality as the heady scent of her filled his senses. He'd have suffocated in her silence, asphyxiated in the ocean she was, had it not been for her fingers anchored at his nape. They tugged him by the hair to stay afloat, leading him to his relief, his surface.

Her lips.

They crashed into his with mind-numbing ferocity and finally he could breathe again. More than that, he could _feel_ – feel the embers racing over him, blazing in his stomach. Feel the silk of her lips mold against his, the heat of her breath filling his lungs. The friction within him roared in his veins, thrummed in his pulse, meeting hers with equal aggression.

She explored him brazenly, her hands sliding beneath his leather coat to bury into the muscles of his shoulder blades. Her tongue swirling in his mouth for his sharp, salty taste. Her thighs wrapping around his waist to squeeze as much excitement from him as he could muster.

She was overwhelming, exhilarating. He lost grip on the physical world, his reality being replaced by the vast entirety that was her – endless and damning.

He moved on primal instinct, swallowing her moans and gasps. He didn't have enough of her, his arm crushed her into him and his mouth melded with hers, and yet he needed more. He wanted to – for lack of a better word – _devour_ her. As she so completely devoured him.

When they kissed it wasn't just in the name of furious passion, of which he'd come to be quite familiar in his many years. When they kissed it was passion_ate_ – driven by something more than the instant gratification – it was real. Their breaths mingled and quivered, their hands grasped and worshiped, their bodies crashed and rolled. They moved out of a need for more than just the pleasure but for each other. Something nerve racking and terrifying, whilst also desperate and insatiable.

She led, as she always did, pulling him back with her. He felt them stumble into something solid, a wall perhaps, but he didn't care to look. Instead, he pinned her between himself and it, feeling her hips square against his. She gasped at the sudden contact, her hand in his hair tightening in a jerk response. He hissed at the sting, disconnecting from her mouth only to let out a pleasurable cry before he was on her again.

He was addicted to her. Her heady scent, heavy breaths, and darkened seas. Her fumbling hands and trembling thighs. He'd never have his fill, though he tried to sate himself by the flesh of her neck. She hummed in appreciation of his attempt, whispering hotly, "Killian." She ran her hands along his shoulders, weaving her fingers in his hair as she caressed his head.

He nibbled affectionately on the lobe of her ear and she saw sparks.

"Killian," she repeated as she descended from the stars, and this time he noticed her gentle struggle against his chest. "Killian." With a groan, he pulled back to glance up at her, but the sight only further unraveled his sanity. She was an exquisite mess: hair and clothes in disarray, skin flushed with passion. A lustful gleam in her eyes promising both immeasurable pleasure and danger. Her breathing reduced to sharp rasps – tight and controlled – simply begged him to be undone.

"Not enjoying yourself, love?" his teased accenting his words with a roll of his hips. Her head dropped back with a thud and her mouth fell open, his name once again graced by her sinful lips. "There's a good lass." It took her a moment to compose herself, one in which Killian spent searing white-hot kisses into her flesh.

"Not here," she gasped, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

Though she steadied herself on him, it was he who was unsteady. His heart hammered between his ears, his legs felt the earth move beneath him, and his skin seemed to sizzle wherever she touched. He was struggling to stay above water again, the magnitude of her threatening to drown him.

But the heat that formed

"As you wish," he huffed, turning his face into hers as she caught her breath against him.

She was the sea. Wild and raging. He was a storm. Thunderous and untamable.

Her every quiver a tidal wave, his every motion a bolt of lightning. She thrashed beneath him as he pounded above her. Together they defined new infinities with unrelenting passions of unfurling ferocity. They were devastating forces of nature fueled by one another; an infinity unto themselves. Her depths consumed him, his energy electrified her. Together they formed something awesome and lethal, complementing each other in ways they'd never known.

* * *

><p>There you go, my first Captain Swan.<p>

The first of many, I hope. It's been some time since I wrote anything this steamy, commentary would be appreciated. Give me some feedback, or don't, just remember that good things come to those who review.

- Nonsensicality


End file.
